A Few Days in the Pacific 12
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Keeping with our long series, this one occurs during Season 9, Sara left Las Vegas and she's sent a video message to Grissom. He goes to find Sara and the story continues!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: You knew we would not stay away! We are not sure where this one will end, but decided to get a jump start on what we will see tonight, and write our ending to be what we want!! Nearly all fluff and romance! _

**A Few Days in the Pacific**

The ocean stretched from horizon to horizon blending into a blue sky that seemed to merge into one seamless canvas. Sara leaned against the solid wall of the ship and sucked in air. She breathed again, deeply bringing in the salty air as she listened to the noise above her head. She had sent her message to Grissom. It had taken nearly thirty days to work up courage to send it. She had written and re-written the words she wanted to say until she had each word memorized—she had practiced in front of the little bathroom mirror.

One of the young men on the ship had helped her with the video set-up and then left her alone to send it. There was limited time each day to send messages and everyone on board seemed to have a dozen emails a day to answer or send. Except Sara.

She had signed on for a forty-five day trip circling the National Heritage site of the Galapagos Island, pulling illegal commercial fishing lines from protected waters, releasing fish, dolphins, and turtles. Until the ship left port, she held onto hope that Grissom would come, or even call with an encouraging message. He had not.

The first five days she was seasick; the ship's crew had treated her as a fellow mate immediately, bringing her their home remedies, extra patches, a pressure bracelet, in efforts to help her get her "sea legs". She drank gallons of ginger tea, ate crackers, and swallowed motion sickness pills. The captain supported her as she walked around the upper deck watching the horizon and held her head as she puked over the side. The crew and group of volunteers provided impossible promises that her sickness would pass.

On the eighth day, the sun came up and her sickness was gone just as quickly as it appeared. Everyone took credit for their remedy working. She was happy to be able to eat, breathe fresh air, and join the work and discussions outside of her small room.

Sara, as the newest volunteer on board, was treated to dolphin sightings, whales breaching, every school of hammerhead sharks that anyone spotted. And she worked. By her second week, she had learned the art of doing laundry on a ship. The cook discovered her vegetarian experience and quickly made her an assistant—almost all meals were vegetarian on these excursions—and she knew the fine cuisine of peanut butter sandwiches and bean soup and soy milk. Meals improved and compliments followed.

By the time the ship reached protected waters, Sara, as well as the other volunteers, had been trained in what to expect. Most of the work would not be pretty or clean or easy. The crew spotted illegal floats at daylight. With short breaks for meals, the floats and fishing lines with hooks as large as a hand were pulled aboard. Fish and dolphins were cut from hooks and tangled lines. A few turtles were found—large and small. The marine biologist estimated an age of seventy years for the largest one. All were released; some would live and some would die, but none would end up as someone's dinner on this day.

By nightfall, exhausted, aching bodies sat at the common dining table and considered their day well-spent. Food and drinks revived a few as plans were made to continue their work as soon as the sun was up.

The ship plowed a tight circle around the islands until one day, the crew pointed to the horizon and said "land"—Sara tried for hours to actually see land while they pulled in fishing lines and set the hooked 'catch' free. Hundreds of hooks and miles of monofilament line had been lifted from the sea and stored below decks. Late that day, the local marine patrol boat arrived, bringing paperwork, baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables, and mail to the ship.

Sara would end her ship board days at the end of the week when the ship docked for fuel and additional supplies. In six weeks, the group had become a temporary family to her. The young men has teased and flirted, the young women had sought her for hearing their secrets, and the few who were near her own age learned little about Sara except she was a serious worker who talked little about herself, and, before she left them, most realized they knew no more about Sara Sidle at her departure than they had known on her arrival.

The last night on the ship was designated as a party for Sara and the marine biologist. Four new volunteers would take their place. But tonight, the group ate fresh mangos and avocados, flat bread and beans, tomatoes and potatoes, joined by a local support crew who also brought music.

When someone decided to dance to the new music, the women, outnumbered two to one, were immediately claimed as partners. On the freshly washed deck, Sara danced and laughed with everyone, briefly forgetting how many days had passed since she had spoken to Gil Grissom, but as firm arms circled her waist and hands held hers, she did remember. Finally, the last night she slept in the narrow cot, she held a photograph in her hand and cried as she remembered what she had refused to think about for weeks.

The second phase of her journey was the Darwin Station near Puerto Ayora. Sara packed her few belongings, removed her photographs from the wall around the bed, and left the small spartan room exactly as she found it. The marine biologist held her hand as she jumped into the small boat taking them to distant dock. She smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: We got our happy ending, but we don't know Sara's story of how she got from that sad video to the Costa Rica forest where Grissom found her. So here it is!! Enjoy--leave a note!_

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 2**

The small boat slowly made its way around others moored in the bay. The dark green of the island became shiny green mangroves, buildings became houses, hotels, and shops, while the water, always blue, became azure as surf met black rocks at the shore.

"It's so beautiful," Sara said.

The marine biologist nodded in agreement. "It becomes more beautiful every time I visit." He would also be working on research—his own project, while Sara was here as a tourist—to walk in Darwin's footsteps.

She pointed to a large bird overhead.

"Waved Albatross," the biologist said.

The boat deposited the two visitors at a small dock and the crew walked with their passengers to the government's arrival center where paperwork was checked, passports were stamped, and a lot of questions were asked about the purpose of their visit, how long they would be on the islands. Sara let the others explain in Spanish she didn't understand with hands waving back and forth, everyone smiling and pointing to luggage and the newcomers. Within minutes, it was over.

One of the boat crew said, "They like to ask a lot of questions about anyone coming in on a Sea Shepherd ship, but it's all for show." They gave directions to Sara for her hotel, saying "It looks like a big house; just keep going when you run out of buildings." The crew and the marine biologist headed in the other direction.

Sara walked along the road sharing with a lone car and several bicycles as she passed through the town of Puerto Ayora. The brightly painted stores, cafes, houses, and a small church were solid structures, not much plastic and neon and fake glitz. Shop windows were filled with all things needed by customers, locals or tourists. When the stores ended, and she could see whitewashed houses hidden in the mangrove trees, she kept walking as the road curved, and suddenly, she knew she had found the right place.

The pink building was barely visible through bushes and low growing trees, but a well marked smooth stone path led to a door and front courtyard. A young woman pushed the entrance door open before Sara could touch it.

"Welcome!"

The door was a huge one made of dark wood that opened silently. On either side, shutters opened above screened windows. The foyer or lobby area was almost as bright as outside with white walls and wood trim, bright cloth looped from one end of the room to the other, covering the ceiling. Posters of native animals covered the walls. Fans turned slowly to provide a slight breeze.

"I'm Sara Sidle. I made a reservation weeks ago."

The girl's English was flawless in the way one learns a language. Sara was told a room was ready. A young man was called from another room and both led Sara through several rooms, showing her a large dining room.

"For breakfast and dinner," the girl explained.

They continued down several steps to another courtyard, or deck. When they stopped to point at the bay, Sara realized the bay was almost underneath their feet. A large bird perched on the railing, near enough for one to touch.

The view stopped Sara's breathing. "It's beautiful." The internet photographs of the place showed small square views but standing on the deck, she turned a full circle; the turquoise water met the emerald green plants in a panoramic scene that literally took her breath. They walked across the elevated deck and up spiral stairs to a room built at the top of the house. It had its own small deck, several chairs, and pots filled with pink and white and blue flowers in a profusion of color that made Sara's eyes hurt.

"The view…" the girl said with a wave of an arm. Sara was speechless. She looked out at a world completely different from the one she had inhabited in Las Vegas. Plants grew in wild profusion tumbling down to a beach of black stones. There were iguanas lying in the sun; other birds had joined the blue heron on the deck. The water was crystal clear so she could actually see the bottom of the bay.

She entered a room behind the two employees. The walls were white washed, the bed covered in white, the floor tile a bright white. Looking overhead, a ceiling fan lazed in circles beneath a blue fabric draped ceiling. Screened windows were shaded with dark shutters. Without realizing what she was doing, Sara had walked around the room, looked at the bathroom, touched towels, and felt the bed.

"It is okay—the room?" The girl had asked the question.

"Yes, yes. Wonderful." Her bag was left in the small closet and the two left her alone. Quiet descended. No sound of another person met her ears. There was no constant hum or thump from an engine. Just the faint sound of calm surf and bird calls met her ears.

Sara stretched across the bed. She had worn her clothes for more days than she wanted to think about. She had one shirt and pants that were reasonably clean—she needed to find a real laundry. She closed her eyes for just a minute.

_A/N: Leave a review--just a word will do!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 3**

...Grissom shook her awake, his hand caressing her shoulder. "Hey. Why are you shaking?" His low, husky voice whispered in her ear. "Are you cold?"

She rolled to face him, never opening her eyes. Dreams, she thought, dreams that never ended. Her mind ran on two tracks—one track kept her going in a normal pace, the other ran like a wild rollercoaster, looping and turning, never stopping, always at full speed.

Sara's hands found him. She knew her dreams were gone for now. She kissed his neck and heard the soft rumble come from his throat. Her hands explored his shirt, and finding no buttons, she slipped her hands underneath its hem and pushed it up.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

She nodded.

His hands cradled her head. "Look at me." She opened her eyes to his blue ones. The darkness of the bedroom blocked out all natural light, but the light from the joining bathroom reflected the intense, serious cerulean of copper and cobalt in his eyes.

"I'm fine, Gil. Really."

He pulled the shirt over his head and reached for her again with hands and lips. She shivered. "We need to warm you up."

He did as hands moved along sensuous nerves and touched those places only a lover knows. A breath of warm air behind her ear, a light touch of two fingers around her nipple, lips grazing her neck and moving slowing downward. She moaned and he held her tighter. His hand moved along her spine to her leg pulling it over his hip.

"Come with me, Sara." His words nestled in her ear…

Sara rolled over to find—the pillow hugged against her face. Her fingers played with the edge of the white case as she remembered she was alone, thousands of miles from the man she loved and dreamed about. The silence of this place surrounded her. A bird screeched somewhere very close to her room. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and got up. She was determined not to return to those hopes and dreams of her past.

She walked to the door. Sitting on the deck was a blue footed boobie—a bird found only on these islands. She opened her bag for her camera. Every guide book wrote how the animals were not afraid of humans; she opened the door. The bird walked toward her. She took a photograph, knelt and took another one. The bird looked at her with a curious gaze. A door slammed somewhere and the bird turned, hesitated, and jumped from deck to a nearby tree.

Sara pulled a chair near the railing, sat down and took a series of photographs of her view. The sky was completely clear, true sky blue; the water—how to describe clear water as a blue green aqua, or was it green blue, she thought. Maybe she would send one to Las Vegas. Everyone needed to see a place this beautiful, and natural. There had been an internet sign on the desk downstairs.

The girl at the front desk took care of Sara's laundry. "All your needs—we take care of you."

Her words were true. Dinner was a buffet of fruits, vegetables, sushi—Sara skipped that section of the table—breads, more fish—she passed that table. Her laundry arrived as she sat watching the sunset and as soon as darkness came, Sara prepared for bed, read her guidebook until her eyelids became heavy, and she slept.

She spent a day at the Darwin Station learning about the islands, the plants, the animals, reading about different projects. She walked to the pastures where tortoises crawled in grass and ignored the humans in their environment. One day passed and she talked to no one, just wandered the island, watching birds, iguanas, and sea lions. It was a good day, she thought.

The next day, she sent four photographs by email to Grissom. She was in none of them, sent no message, and had received no emails from him. Later, as she sat in a small café in town, she saw the marine biologist walk by with several other people. She let them pass. Forty-five days of close living on the ship had provided enough contact with people to last her for several more days. She would remain a solitary tourist for a while longer.

Her hosts fussed and worried about her. Their usual guests were couples, friends and families. They seldom had the lone female which was one reason they had given her the room at the top of the house; it was safe and private. Each morning, the young couple wished her a good day as she left.

One day she took a tour boat to another island to see penguins and dozens of blue herons and sea lions piled on each other like giant pillows. Everyone chattered about the beauty and the strangeness and the thrill of seeing these unique animals showing no fear of humans, only curiosity.

That night, arriving at her hotel, a note was stuck on her door.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's another one for today! Enjoy--**

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 4**

"Join us at the Hot Bean Café. Just off the main street." The note was signed "Dave", the marine biologist—who reminded her of Grissom. She threw the note at the bed and got in the shower.

And in the shower, she had her own conversation, talking to the wall as she scrubbed her sunburned shoulder. "Here I am, on the vacation of a life time, and I don't even want to go out. This is a pitiful excuse for living!" She complained to herself. Wrapping a towel around her body, she found the note. She would find the Hot Bean Café.

She spotted the group from the door. The biologist saw her, jumping up to pull a chair to their table. "Sara! Everyone—this is Sara Sidle, a fellow shipmate." He introduced her to each person, all researchers on some special project.

"I'm here as a tourist." Sara explained when asked if she had a project.

"For how long?" Another asked.

"I fly out on Wednesday." Sara said and left most of the conversation to others.

They were studying sea cucumbers, measuring and photographing the little sea creatures in several bays around the island.

"Come with us tomorrow." The biologist encouraged her. "It is easy work—much easier than what we were doing on the ship." The others agreed and before she gave it much thought, she said yes.

They ate dinner, talked about research, the islands, the importance of protection of wildlife and plants. Each person seemed to have a particular area of interest but joined together to work. Two were working to band and count certain birds, including the albatross she had seen. Another was looking at a type of fish which had been introduced to the fresh water ponds on this island.

The companionship and conversation kept the group at the table long after other customers had eaten and left; the owner knew this group and served food and beers without questions. The third or fourth beer sent Sara in search of a restroom and she realized she had nearly stepped over her set limit.

Back at the table, she apologized, saying "I need to get back to my room, guys. Too many beers in a short time." She held on to her chair for a minute. "But I think I can make it to your bay tomorrow. I'd like to see what you are doing."

Two of the men along with the marine biologist insisted on walking to her hotel and the four found the building telling her they would pick her up the next morning.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Not far—we'll pick you up on the bay side. You'll have fun."

It might have been the beer, or the voice that sounded so much like Grissom, but Sara dreamed of the man who was in Las Vegas…

…Grissom talked about reading _Moby Dick_ and seeing the rain forest before pulling her into bed. They had been frightened and worried about their friend who recuperated in a hospital bed as they wrapped arms around each other. She removed his blue silk shirt and pitched it across the room.

"I love this part of my day," he whispered as his lips found the edge of her ear. Her response was a simple hum in agreement.

In her dream tonight, they laughed and played in sunny days and warm nights, even laughing about some puzzle at work. She slept in restful peace…

A constant tapping woke her. A hammer, no, not a hammer. Something against glass. She stirred and saw a shadow at her door. Morning, she thought—something she should remember. The tapping continued.

"Oh, dam!" Sara said as she jumped from her bed and reached for the door.

The young woman at the door, the same one who had been so helpful all week, had her hand raised to knock again and jumped when Sara flung open the door.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Sidle. The men—the men," her arm waved toward the bay, "they insisted I wake you." She dropped her arm and her eyes.

Sara realized she wore a tank top and panties, nothing else. The girl turned away. "It's okay—Paulina—I overslept, I knew they were coming." She grabbed a shirt. "Tell them I'll be a minute, only a few minutes." And in less than five minutes, she appeared on the deck with camera in her hand, wearing the baggy shorts, a long sleeved shirt, and sandals she had practically lived in on the ship.

The girl who woke her met her on the lower deck. "Food, Miss Sidle. You need food with those men." She said with a laugh as she handed a small bag to Sara along with a bottle of juice.

Four men waited in a small run-about type boat at the edge of the water. Two helped her after she waded in knee deep water and threw one leg over its side.

"Partying too much last night?" Dave asked as he reversed the boat with a long pole before the motor caught and backed into deeper water.

Sara laughed and looked at this 'crew'. They were old hands at this work. Silently, Sara reviewed what she knew about each. Dave had been her companion since her first day on the Sea Shepherd ship. He was quiet, reserved, yet people listened when he talked, saying few words in the early days. He was one who had given her ginger tea for seasickness. She knew he was retired—not sure from what—but he was obviously a true scientist. Sara had been drawn to him, listening, asking questions.

Last night, she had met the other three—all scientists, intense about their work or projects, and willing to share their time, their expertise, their work with an interested stranger. George, Jeff, and—what was his name, she tried to remember why she should know his name—Sandy, the color of his hair. She said the name out loud.

"Sandy—what's your project?" She covered her forgetfulness quickly. She knew they had talked about it last night.

The question was all he needed to talk about his project. Not just his project, he explained, but one covering all islands in the archipelago. He talked until the boat slowed to enter a small bay with several floating platform type boats anchored and people working in dive suits.

"Here we are," the driver of their boat killed the motor and someone threw a rope to them. They quickly tied the boat and stepped onto the platform.

Sara realized they were swapping places with the five people on the platform.

"These guys work at night, diving, finding the sea cucumbers." George, the researcher on this project, explained. "Today, we will measure, register, and photograph what they found." He held up one of the soft creatures.

In the next few hours, Sara learned about sea cucumbers—named because they looked like cucumbers, sort of, but not really, she thought. Like a star fish without arms, the echinoderm sea cucumber fed on algae and waste on the floor of the ocean. It is considered a delicacy in many places and had been harvested to the point of near extinction in these islands. They were coming back, but so few adults survived that breeding would be slow for years.

Sara held one of the spongy animals in her hand. "How do they breed?"

George explained the asexual "mating" process—no contact necessary. "Eggs and sperm are produced at the same time, meet in the water and maybe you get fertilization." He rolled an animal over, pointing to one end. "They can jettison internal organs and regenerate those, too." He placed a small mark on its back. "Remarkable creatures."

He placed it on a measuring mat and Sara took the photograph. She scooped the wet sea cucumber in her hand and held it at eye level before gently placing it back into an aquarium. One of the others would return it to the bottom of the bay.

She worked all day with the sea cucumbers and the researchers, taking short breaks to eat. At mid-day, all five jumped into the water for a cool break, swimming and diving in the clear water, climbing back on the platform to dry in the sun before continuing their work.

The next crew arrived to take their place—more divers who worked in darkness collecting the sea cucumbers and putting them in aquariums. Before leaving, Sara handed her camera to a newcomer and requested a photograph. The day had passed quickly; all four men and Sara had stayed busy and conversations had been about their work.

"Eat with us. We know the best places in town," the youngest man of the four had plopped next to Sara in the boat. "We don't get a good listener to eat with us very often."

Sara agreed to meet them later. After a shower, she checked her email—nothing, and uploaded two more photographs including one taken of her and the four researchers. She held a sea cucumber in her hand and she was smiling…


	5. Chapter 5

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 5**

That night, Dave, the marine biologist, asked Sara a question. "Why are you here?" When she hesitated, he asked "Where are you from?" She hesitated again.

"Come on, girl, we've heard it all!" This came from George, ruddy faced with bright red hair, and always laughing. "Few women come here alone and Dave tells us he knows nothing about you after spending weeks with you on a ship." He leaned closer. "Tell us all your darkest secrets."

Sara laughed. It was easy with George's comical expressions, his eyes magnified by round glasses, and his completely insincere statement.

"I robbed a bank and I'm on the run." Sara said, trying to keep a smile hidden. "I quit my job and wanted to see a different part of the world."

"And what was that job?" Dave's voice was quiet, inquiring, so much like Grissom, she thought.

Sara shifted and looked at the faces surrounding her. They had been kind and friendly today. She kept her voice light. "I worked in a crime lab—Las Vegas."

"Ahh—I told you." Jeff, the one who had invited her to eat with them, said. "She handled the sea cucumbers to easily—never hesitated!" He leaned back in his chair, pleased with himself.

With that, the questions to Sara ended. They ate dinner as colleagues with the men sharing stories from the past. Sara listened.

Dave insisted on walking with her back to her hotel. "Tomorrow, I head to another island for several days." He said as they strolled through the town in no hurry to end their day. "Where is your next stop?"

"I fly to Guayaquil then to Quito for a connection to Costa Rica."

He nodded. "All three are beautiful places. Do you stay long in Guayaquil?"

"Overnight, then a connection in Quito before Costa Rica."

Dave closed the space between the two as they talked, taking Sara's elbow as they waited for one car to pass. "Guayaquil is a beautiful city—part colonial town, part fishing village, part modern city. Get out and shop—great local artisans market. Buy things for your friends and family."

"I'll do that." Sara said as she stepped a stride ahead of him, but she smiled at her companion.

"Do you have a destination or plan in Costa Rica?" asking the question as he placed hands in his pockets.

He even walks like Grissom, Sara thought. "I'm going as a volunteer for one of the national parks—not sure what I'll be doing—Corcovado. I'll be there for three weeks."

"Costa Rica is nice—well organized, well educated population, really top rate in protecting their environment, and the only country in the Americas that does not have an army." He talked about several trips he had made. "The wildlife is unbelievable—very well protected—birds, monkeys, jaguars, frogs, insects—absolutely amazing." He continued talking until they reached her hotel. He turned. "This may be goodbye, Sara. You'll be gone when I return." He took her hand, raised it to his lips and softly kissed her fingers.

Sara let him keep her hand for several seconds before withdrawing it from his hold. "Thanks, Dave. For today, for including me. Thanks for everything."

She heard him breathe deeply. "Tell me, Sara." His words were the same ones she heard from Grissom so many times. "Tell me why you are running away, honey."

In the darkness, she blinked back tears that had suddenly come into her eyes but she remained quiet.

Dave took her hand again and led her to a pair of chairs on the front courtyard. "Let's sit while I tell you a story." She let him move the chairs just inches apart facing each other. He asked, "Do you know how old I am?" When she shook her head, he chuckled. "It doesn't matter, except that I'm much older than you—almost eighty." Her head popped up in surprise but if he noticed, he did not acknowledge it.

He told her a life's story, one with four careers, two wives and a daughter. "I lost my first wife—she left me years ago. My second wife died a few years ago—an ex-wife by then. My daughter is about your age. I talk to her—visit her a few times a year." Dave had taken both her hands. "I know, Sara, what it is to run away."

"I'm not running away."

His voice was almost a whisper. "I'm a stranger to you, Sara. Chances are we will never meet again. I'm an old man moving in a world that changes more every day—I've been running so long that I've forgotten why I left." He chuckled again. "Two months ago I watched you board the ship; knew you were running away from something, but you are better than most—certainly better than I ever was. No mention of family, a job, a boyfriend—or girlfriend. You hide a lot behind that smile." He patted her hand. "Whatever it is, leave the door open; stay in contact, never lose hope."

Sara sighed and remained quiet. The darkness settled around the two people, as he kept his hand on hers. The warmth of his hand against hers was the first intimate contact she had felt in weeks.

_A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Love your comments--sort of a cliff hanger here, but keep reading. _


	6. Chapter 6

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 6**

In a whisper, she began. "He said he loved me. We were happy—for a long time. We made a home together. Things happened—not between us, but around us. He said it was time to move on—that I needed to leave him." Tears fell from her eyes. "I waited for weeks for him to decide—something—anything, but he never did." She wiped her eyes and replaced her hand in his. "I think I knew he would not—not—do anything." She made a sound that was almost a laugh. "He's a good man, really he is."

"Do you love him?"

She heard her voice tremble. "I've never loved anyone but him."

The older man sat in silence after hearing her statement, finally saying, "Keep in touch with him, Sara. Never give up. I wish someone—one of the wives, maybe—had cared enough to remind me, to keep in touch." He reached into a pocket and handed her a handkerchief. "I know it's a two way street, but some of us need a lot of encouragement."

Sara folded the white cloth into a small square. "He's carries these."

Dave laughed and stood up. "Send him a postcard—an email. Tell him you are having a good time and wish he were here." He had kept her hand in his. "Be happy, Sara. Life is a journey." He kissed her hand again, said goodbye, and disappeared in minutes up the path…

Sara slept without dreams that night, exhausted but revived in spirit from the simple words of a stranger. She spent her last day on the island writing and mailing a few post cards, buying a couple of tee shirts and a Darwin sticker for her car—small things she could easily pack.

Sara left the Galapagos Islands in a plane loaded with tourists, all trying to get a last glimpse of the emerald islands floating in a sea of turquoise. A flight of six hundred miles would put the passengers on the South American continent and Ecuador.

Guayaquil was well described by the marine biologist. Sara found the market after an easy taxi ride to her hotel and quickly realized she should have planned to spend more than one night in the beautiful city. The hotel's first purpose had been for the army, built with two massive courtyards. The first with its big fountain had become a garden of flowers. The second courtyard and it's smaller but ornate fountain was a large dining area. Sara's room overlooked this one.

The market was only a few blocks away and Sara found it with simple directions. It was a shopper's paradise—baskets, hats, carved animals, woven fabrics, shirts, skirts, paintings, and dolls—were displayed and arranged in a rainbow of colors. She found stones carved into small animals—turtles, frogs, dogs, cats, and fish. She crossed the street to a farmers market of fruits, vegetables, live chickens, and house wares. She made a few purchases and took dozens of photographs before returning to her hotel.

Sara chose a quick meal at the courtyard bar and asked about internet service. The bartender directed her to a small office where she waited for two people to complete their transactions before she got a computer. At least the connection was fast. She uploaded pictures and checked her reservations for Costa Rica, hearing the ping for arriving email. She selected two photographs and typed in a short message, "Having a good time, wish you were here." She hit the send icon. Then she checked her email.

She recognized the bug above the message. The email was short—"looks like a great place." Signed "Griss." She sighed. Eight weeks and he sent her a one line message. Almost immediately, she heard another ping and the IM message popped on the screen. Another bug.

"_Where are you?"_

"Ecuador," she typed.

"_Having fun?"_

"Yes. Tomorrow, Costa Rica."

A few seconds passed before his message appeared. _"I miss you."_

"I miss you too."

"_Where will you be in Costa Rica?" _

She typed in the name of the national park.

He responded, _"The most biologically intense place on earth. May I call you?"_

The request surprised her. She answered "I'm here for one night."

Another sixty seconds passed before the next message appeared. _"Send me the number."_

She looked for the hotel's phone number, getting another message before she could send the number.

"_Is it okay to call?"_

Sara typed in the number, added her room number, then "I need to get to my room."

Another minute passed before his message came. _"I'll call in ten minutes."_

She logged off, grabbed her bag and purchases and ran up the stairs to her room. By the time her key card slipped into the slot, the phone was ringing. It had not been ten minutes.

She lifted the phone and said "Hello." Thousands of miles away, she heard an intake of air followed by a quiet "Hey."

_**A/N: **Okay, readers, TWO in one day! Enjoy. Grissom coming soon. _


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: _Short one now, another one later._

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 7**

At first, hesitant words passed between them formed in carefully selected questions. "How are you?" "Okay. You?" "Same." "You got the pictures?" "Yeah, it looks like a beautiful place." "It is…Gil." "Sara."

Their words tangled together until both were quiet. She heard him say, "I'm sorry."

She said, "I'll let you talk—I'm sorry." Quiet breathing was all she heard. "Gil?"

"I'm sorry, Sara. I'm sorry about us—your leaving—here, leaving San Francisco." He stopped and Sara knew he was pushing his glasses up and pinching his nose. "Sara, I'm—I don't want—I didn't mean for us…" he became quiet again.

"Its okay, Gil. I'm fine, really, I am. This trip has done me a world of good—I've seen things most people only dream about seeing." Sara knew she was giving him breathing time and she heard a slight crinkling sound as he leaned back in his chair. She knew what he was doing because she knew him so well. She told him about the school of hammerhead sharks she had watched while on the ship; excitement in her voice as she described the odd creatures swimming together in the only place every observed by humans. She paused, to let him talk if he chose to, but gathering her thoughts to tell him of another experience so she could keep talking to him, listening to him breathe, to know he was still linked to her.

"Sara." He said her name in his quiet warm way. "Sara—sweet Sara." How he said her name brought tears to her eyes. She did not want to cry, not here, so far away. She wanted her voice to be strong, to be steady as she talked. "Sara."

She wasn't sure what she heard; it was not Grissom's usual voice. "Are you okay? Are you sick?" She remembered when they all had flu last year and he forbade her to return to Vegas to take care of him.

"No, I'm not sick." She heard a chuckle. "I—I'm missing my best girl—my only girl. She's too far away."

His words took her breath. She could not breathe. She lay back on the bed, her head dizzy, her eyes filled with tears. Her hand gripped the phone.

"Sara?" She heard her name.

"I'm here, Gil. I—I heard you."

"I'm not ready to say goodbye, Sara. I need you in my life. I want you in my life—I don't want us—I'm not sure what I want, but I want you." This time she heard the beginning of a laugh. "I'm confused right now, but I'm working on it."

She gave him a break—breathing space. "How is Hank?"

"Fine. He's fine. Sleeping with me, dragging me through the park. He misses you. I've never been the best dog walker."

She laughed. True words, she thought. "You are not feeding him junk food, are you?"

"No, no. The best from Trader Joes. The dog sitter does a good job."

Their conversation moved to weather—a freak snowfall in Vegas, an odd case similar to one a decade ago, the results of the presidential election. An easy flow of words as minutes ticked by; Sara laughed, Grissom laughed.

"I need to go, honey. Work waits."

"Okay. Grissom—Gil—I wish you were here."

"So do I, honey, so do I." He said. "Sara—let me know where you are, okay? I want to hear from you."

"I will."

"I have to go. Lots of things going on." She heard a chuckle before he added, "as usual."

Uncontrolled tears rolled down her face. She knew her voice would be unsteady. She cleared her throat. "Pictures," she managed to say, "I'll send pictures."

"Sara," he said, the gentle sound of his voice floated to her ear.

"I know, Gil, I know. Take care of yourself. We'll talk again."

She held the phone against her chest until she heard a click. She rolled against the pillows and cried until she slept…


	8. Chapter 8

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 8**

The next morning Sara was busy getting to Quito and her flight to Costa Rica put Sara into the city of Puerto Jimenez by late afternoon. Her limited Spanish language skill did not slow her trip as she managed enough to get a taxi and to her hotel. Her questions in English got an answer in the same language. Before dinner, she was in another taxi to the main ranger station on the outskirts of town and found her name on the reservation list for volunteer researchers.

The young ranger checked her paperwork, showed her a map, and explained her travel options—only two, walk in or take a ferry, which shortened the walk by miles. He opened a folder and pulled out research projects.

"You said you were willing to camp, yes?" He asked. She nodded. "We have assigned you to the monkey project. Okay?" She nodded. He continued his explanations as she filled out paperwork. "You have a bunk at the ranger station. Here's a list of things you need—be sure to buy a mosquito net before you go." When all paperwork was checked, marked, signed, and copied, Sara headed into town with her shopping list and by nightfall, was back in her room.

She had been to busy to mull over her phone conversation with Grissom, but it was never far from her thoughts. She asked about internet access at the hotel desk and was given a pass key to a business center.

Three emails awaited her click. Three, she thought, before she saw the tiny bug. She opened the first one. It read: _Sara, I feel we ended our conversation to soon. I've always had problems expressing the right words. Know I love you. I want you to enjoy your trip. Grisson._

The second one: _Let me know where you are, how can I call you? Griss._

The third one made her smile. _I realized I should say more. I have been thinking—more than usual, I'm afraid. How long will you be in Costa Rica? G._

She replied with the specific name of the ranger station, including information on her requirement for mosquito nets. She also wrote about the monkey project. "Monkeys tend to pee on humans—I'll wear a hat." She hit the send button and signed off.

The next morning, Sara was at the ferry landing, her things packed tightly in her backpack and one tote. The ferry boat left the town and hugged the coastline until it came to a large river emptying into the Pacific Ocean. There, the boat headed up river. Traveling with Sara were other tourists, mostly young, mostly backpackers carrying what they would need. A few were day trippers, riding the ferry into the national park with plans for a short hike or day at the beach before going back to Puerto Jimenez.

Everyone pointed to passing scenery—hawks and pelicans overhead, monkeys in trees, a stingray in the bay, a crocodile along the bank of the river. Cameras clicked constantly and when the ferry bumped to its landing, most riders hesitated to disembark, looking overhead or in the water.

Sara and the others backpacking to the ranger station set off at their own speed on the well marked path, tall trees, grasses, and broad leaf plants towering overhead. Wildlife—birds, butterflies, insects, sounds of larger animals surrounded the hikers. It was not raining but humidity caused clothes to be damp with sweat within minutes.

The ranger station was built in the middle of a wide, clipped grass opening, surrounded by a forest jungle. The station spread into several green-colored buildings, all connected by covered walkways. The newcomers formed a line to receive bunk assignments or camping permits and quickly reformed in the dining hall for a meal. Sara had no trouble with small polite talk with the others; several were also arriving for volunteer work as she was. This group ate their first meal together, comparing notes on their assigned projects, how long each planned to stay.

Bunk rooms were plain, simple and unadorned places to sleep. Sara thought of the farm house where her mother lived—the bedrooms there were plush compared with these rooms. Her mosquito netting went up easily enough and she stored her things in the open cupboard. She was alone in the room for now but she carefully arranged her things in one-half of the space. A bathroom was down the hall.

That night she met a couple, Carol and Mike, who were assigned to the same project, returning for their second time, to the same research. The three would remain at the ranger station for several days, then they would venture further into the park to a camp—tent camping, very rustic, and "great fun," the woman said.

Only when she was almost asleep did Sara think about sending a message to Grissom. She promised to send one early in the morning. He would receive her email by the time he got home.

Morning came early in the park. Animal sounds or gathering heat woke everyone before the sun was above the treetops. Sara found the stations internet access and quickly sent an email with the station's name, a telephone number, adding she would be staying at the station until heading to an outlying research camp.

That afternoon, the monkey researcher arrived with two volunteers in tow. Both volunteers were sick, barely able to handle their own backpacks.

"I'll need the new ones to return with me," he declared. And Sara met the researcher she would be working with for almost three weeks. The returning couple assured Sara she would enjoy the work—much more fun than staying in the station with daily comings and goings of trekkers and overnighters. Carol volunteered their room as a deposit area for most of her belongings.

"You'll need your netting and little else—it is very rustic, Sara. Two changes of clothes; we can wash things—there is a bathroom, but we sleep in tents, count monkeys all day, eat simple meals, have lots of time to enjoy the place. We will work half of the day and most of the night." Carol explained.

Sara listened as she separated her clothing, not that she had much with her. A jacket, jeans, sandals stayed behind. She took a small plastic bag and placed a photograph inside. She was ready for the next part of her adventure except for one small detour.

The two computers at the ranger station were down; people were lined around the wall waiting or hoping the connection would reestablish itself. Sara could not believe her luck. She quickly wrote a note and talked to the ranger who had checked her in. He assured her he would send the email as soon as possible.

Sara, the couple, and Scott, the researcher, left for the three hour hike to the outlying camp. Along with their own backpack, they each carried an additional pack of supplies for the camp. They had no reason to hurry and Sara found three easy-going companions with a scientific interest in "saving the world" the researcher said with a laugh. His primary interest was in his research and he spent most of the trip explaining with great enthusiasm what he was doing.

This was Sara's introduction to the most biologically intense place on earth as Grissom had called it. She spotted more insects in the first hour than she could count. Butterflies fluttered overhead in clouds of kaleidoscope colors. Birds created shadows as they darted from tree to tree. The trail was well maintained with thick forest growth on either side and almost impossible to step off the path. Her three fellow hikers waited patiently as she took photograph after photograph.

_A/N: This story will be another 3-4 chapters! Keep reading. Enjoy. Lots of fluff coming up--cloud 9 landing!!_


	9. Chapter 9

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 9**

The third hour of walking was very damp, the sun overhead made shadows through the canopy of leaves above, the trail was well packed and easy to follow. A constant buzz of insects had surrounded them from their first steps along the path. Several times, they jumped small streams of water tumbling along from an unseen source.

The first glimpse of the research camp was the temporary tent set up for processing information, open on all sides, more of a canopy than tent. "Protects us from monkeys above us," the researcher explained. The camp was set up in a small clearing with a large permanent looking tent with a plank floor and flaps opened to catch breezes. Two similar structures on either side were sleeping quarters and a fourth, more permanent structure served as living quarters for Scott, a cook, and housed the kitchen. Sara peeked into each tent and found two narrow, firm cots and a metal box between the beds. Fine mesh covered the windows and the door.

Carol pointed beyond the kitchen. "Bathrooms. Best place out here." The two women walked to the wooden building. "Actual flush toilets and hot showers that work most of the time." She showed Sara the water mechanics—water pumped to barrels on the roof, heated with solar panels, provided hot showers. "Just don't expect long showers. Fill this up." She picked up a bucket. "Wet your body, soap up, rinse off." Carol showed her the laundry—bucket, again, and a clothes line. "Solar drying."

They walked back to the sleeping tents. From her previous trip, Carol explained sleeping arrangements—Sara would have a small tent to herself—and meal schedule and a basic work schedule.

The research field work was not complicated. Two different types of monkeys were being counted, each was marked or registered, and released. Some days and nights, dozens of monkeys were in the area, but several days might pass with only a few animals to process. The three volunteers began working that night.

The monkeys were not afraid of the humans. Scott showed how their natural curiosity would bring the young ones to them; he rarely used the nets he stacked underneath work tables. By midnight the group had registered and released six new monkeys. The following days were filled with work, and when not busy with monkeys, there were a dozen daily chores in the camp and when those were finished, the three volunteers hiked the trails surrounding the camp.

The animals amazed all three. Butterflies, hummingbirds, hawks, white faced monkeys, squirrel monkeys, even a Coati were captured in their photographs. Quickly, days passed and the three volunteers adapted to camp life with ease; they worked as necessary and slept when needed, often a mid-day.

During a quiet afternoon near the end of her second week, Scott pointed out a white faced Capuchin monkey sitting in a tree near their work tent. Sara wanted a photo of one of the monkeys studied, so she took her camera and waited. The little monkey posed for her looking directly at her as she pressed the shutter—twice. The monkey looked beyond Sara causing her to sense a change in the camp.

She turned, taking a second to register what she saw—or who she saw. Grissom. Wearing his hat. Sweating. With a backpack. Smiling. Coming to her, his arms around her, his lips meeting hers. She was in a dream but not dreaming. For a fleeting second, her brain refused to process what her eyes saw. Tears formed behind her eyelids as they kissed, and kissed, and did not let go of the other. Until one had to breathe. And they did not let go even then, just moved their noses enough to take in air, then kissed again, deeper, tasting each other, the sweetness she had never forgotten, the salty sweat, the tickle of his beard. Their words were extremely incoherent but Sara smiled.

Finally, after Sara's arms and legs felt like the bones had been pulled from them and her lips needed water, she pulled slightly away from the person she had dreamed about for uncounted nights.

"You came." She said.

His hand smoothed her hair and he smiled kissing her again before saying "I made a decision." His finger wiped away a tear as it spilled from her eye. Her head rested on his shoulder.

"I must be dreaming."

Grissom chuckled. "If you are, it's a hot, sweaty dream." He looked up to see three people standing under the tent canopy watching them. "We have an audience."

Sara's hand slipped into his as they kept one arm around each other. "Carol, Mike, Scott—this is Gil Grissom." She hesitated. "He's my—my fiancé." She smiled, broadly.

Somehow, the five people migrated from the open tent to the large floored tent, work forgotten, water passed to the newcomer, and Grissom was explaining how he had gotten from Las Vegas, Nevada, to the national park at the southern end of Costa Rica. Not easily, he explained. He had flown into the capitol the day before and managed to get the last available seat on a small plane to Drake Bay. Once there, he had found a smaller plane that would fly to the ranger station air strip, where he had arrived this morning.

He met the young ranger who had sent Sara's email message the day she left for the remote camp. That was the day Grissom made the decision to leave Las Vegas and in less than two weeks, he had wrapped up cases, made flight reservations, hotel reservations, and contacted the park for entry permits.

Today, he had hiked three hours to find Sara, knowing she would be waiting. She had let him talk without questions or interruptions until he finished and pulled her into an intense, warm hug. The three others had listened with Sara and, when he finished, they looked at each other and politely made excuses to leave the two alone.

Sara had kept her hand in his while he talked. "I'm dreaming," she said.

He laughed. "No dream, dear. I'm here." He looked around at the camp. "They meant rustic—I brought a mosquito net and food." He leaned forward and kissed her. "God, Sara, I've missed you."

Sara could not stop smiling. "You came. I can't believe you came—all this way—and found me."

Grissom leaned back in his chair, taking her hand with him. "You've no idea. I could not stay away. When I thought you were lost to me—I could not sleep, I couldn't eat. All I had was gone with you."

Tears filled her eyes again even as she smiled. "Oh, Grissom." She stood and hugged him to her chest. "You came." She slipped to her knees. "How long?" She took his face in her hands. "How long can you stay?" She asked.

The sound from his chest began as a chuckle which turned into a perfect Grissom smile as if he had a secret to tell. He pulled her into his arms again and said one word. "Forever."

It took some time for Grissom to tell her—and for Sara to really believe what he said. He had retired, left the lab, closed his last crime case for Las Vegas, left Hank with Doc Robbins. She sat with open mouth, astonished, surprised into wordless quiet.

"I'm here for as long as we want to stay. We can look at monkeys, butterflies, frogs, lizards, crawling bugs, flying bugs—but mainly, I think I'll look at you until my eyes fog over."

Sara showed him the rest of the camp and when they placed his backpack inside her tent, he looked at the two cots, shaking his head with a laugh.

"This is not going to work, Sara." His fingers pointed at the two cots, separated by three feet. "I didn't come thousands of miles to sleep like this."

She giggled. "I don't expect you to sleep much." He laughed as he threw the backpack onto the empty bed.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Two or three chapters left in this story. Enjoy!_

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 10**

Grissom stood in the center of the tent and carefully noticed his surroundings. A line stretched across the back window where she had hung a shirt and her underwear. A hairbrush, a bottle of lotion, and a book lay on top of the metal box. His eyes met hers and he knew his heart moved. She had haunted him for weeks, no matter how hard he worked to drive out her image, she had remained.

He took two steps, more and the two would have tumbled out of the tent. He folded her in his arms and stood rocking gently, sweaty, exhausted, and felt her body tremble against his. His hands sought her skin, underneath her shirt, a hunger taking over his physical need to have her, now.

There was a low moan between them, neither sure who made the sound first. Then there were no sounds but those of clothing being removed, a scrape of shoes as they hit the floor, a whirl of fabric as mosquito netting was shoved aside and the two half naked bodies landed in the camp bed.

The heat had stilled every animal in the forest into a mid-day lull except for mosquitoes and biting gnats. If anyone had been within yards of the camp, they would have heard nothing but a quiet whirring hum coming from the small tent. Gil Grissom was nothing if not thorough in his rediscovery of Sara Sidle, remembering those places of pleasure, behind her ear, along her neck, in the curve of her breast. His fingers elicited sounds of pleasure and excitement, low, purring, rarely louder than a whisper, until she arched her body and brought him into her. Quickly, an explosion of passion occurred first in one, then the other and they lay tangled in netting, sheets, legs and arms.

"Want a bath?" She asked, making no attempt to move away from him.

"A bath?" He questioned.

"Get your clothes on." While he dressed, she pulled two towels from the metal box, took her dry shirt and panties from the clothesline, and quickly redressed. "No soap—that's for the shower, but this is better."

She led him along a narrow path, up an incline away from the camp and into the middle of a thicket of trees and ferns and wild feathery white flowers. Before them was a beautiful natural 'tub' lined with flat rocks and a small trickle of water flowing from a cleft between two rocks kept the basin filled with fresh water before it overflowed to join another stream several feet below.

"Scott found this and made a few improvements," she said and in two seconds she was stepping, fully clothed into crystal clear warm water. It was only two feet deep, but long and wide enough for two to recline. "Come." She crooked her finger in his direction, perhaps unaware of how seductive she looked.

Grissom needed no further encouragement to join her. Their sexual passion momentarily tempered, the two lovers entwined as one and let water flow around them. Occasionally, one would talk, remember some event to tell the other before peaceful quietness came again.

Sara rose first to sit on the rocky ledge, pulling her shirt over her head and squeezing excess water from it before slipping it back on. "This is how we do our laundry most of the time," she giggled. "The monkeys don't care how we smell!"

Grissom gave her a look with an uplifted eyebrow. "You smell good to me." He stood and shook out his own shirt. She passed him a towel. "You're having fun."

"Yeah." She smiled. "Now, I'll have more fun."

They lay on the rocks and let the sun dry their clothes as the forest came alive with afternoon sounds of insects, frogs, and birds. A large blue and brown butterfly landed on a puddle of water.

"A Morpho," Grissom said. They watched as its wings opened and closed several times before flying away. Sara smiled as she watched Grissom's face study the butterfly for a few seconds, then he turned to smile at her…

The three others returned before dinner to find the couple sitting almost where they had left them. They had a plan to explain and put into action.

As selected spokesperson, Carol laid out their suggestions. "We know you two kids need some time together—not with three strangers and monkeys peeing all over you." Grissom chuckled at being called a kid by a woman a few years older than he. "So tomorrow, pack your things and get back to the ranger station. There are some very nice places outside of the park. Go to one. Have a good time."

Sara started to protest but was quieted by Scott. "We can do without you—I'm here for two more months. You can return, both of you, if you have time." He grinned and used a finger to gently tap Sara's arm. "You're a great volunteer," he winked at Grissom. "Good thing you came. The monkeys and I were thinking about kidnapping her."

Night and darkness came gradually and lingering at this time of year. Temperature changes came into the shadows by a few degrees measured from hot and steamy to just hot. Before it was completely dark, the group at the research camp separated leaving Sara and Grissom to be alone, to sit on the wood step at the front of her tent until words were no longer what they needed.

Grissom watched as she moved inside the tent, waiting for her as she undressed and hung each item on the line. She inspected a thin shirt before pulling it over her head. She grinned.

"Spiders." She said as she held out a hand for his shirt and hung it beside her own. Pants and socks came next. She parted the mosquito netting over her bed and motioned for him to enter.

For a breathtaking moment she stood before him as a silhouette against the screen window before entering the net covered bed. She tucked the netting securely around the bed, before lying beside him.

She laughed softly. He felt so good, warm and cool at the same time, secure as their arms intertwined and her head came to that spot where shoulder met his arm.

"I've always known I belonged here," she said as she snuggled to him.

His voice muffled by her hair, he whispered, "I know I belong to you. I don't care about anything else, except you, being with you." He cleared his throat quietly, and kissed her. "We've lost so much time."

Sara moved, not much because they were as close as two could be on the small bed, so she was above him, kissing him gently at first, a kiss to stop his words, then fiercely, parting his lips with her tongue, teasing as she ran her tongue over his teeth, feeling the slightly crooked tooth that gave his grin an appealing distinction. She loved him, not one individual trait or feature, but every cell in his body, every thought in his head. She felt the hardness and heat of his body growing as she moved her legs over his.

This time, Sara provided pleasure to his passion kissing the sensitive places along his body, her fingertips lightly playing in places to create a crescendo of sensations, and when a deep moan bubbled from his chest, she placed her mouth over his and swept along with him as he fell, tumbled, plummeted into the warm swirling whirlpool of passionate obsession he had for this woman. Exhausted, drained of energy, consumed with each other, the lovers finally slipped into sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 11**

_**A/N:**__ Stayed up late to finish this chapter and outline the rest—3 or 4 more chapters until this one concludes. Thanks for reading!_

Early morning found Grissom and Sara on the trail heading back to the ranger station. Neither seemed to notice the weight in their backpacks as the two floated on a cloud trying to keep feet firmly on the ground. Sara was the one to point out the butterflies; she was the first to see a small green frog. Each time, Grissom urged her on.

The researcher had radioed the station of their return and for their request for the plane to fly them into Drake Bay. By the time they reached the complex, the plane was waiting, the same pilot who had flown Grissom in the day before welcomed them with a grin.

"I see you found her," the man shouted over the noise of the engine.

"I did." Grissom returned a smile and shook his hand before they crawled into the back seats. They watched as the forest fell beneath them and within minutes they could see the distant ocean.

"Good thing you called today. Storm system coming in tonight may shut us down for a couple of days." The pilot said as he banked around a mountain. The flight was short and as he prepared to land, he pointed out several areas of interest along the coastline, asking where they were saying. When Grissom provided a name, the pilot pointed to a sprawling oceanside building. "That's your place." Within minutes, he was landing the plane bringing the two passengers to the hanger. He had new passengers waiting for the return flight into the park and wasted no time as people swapped places.

Grissom had reserved a room for a week, left his luggage in the room, unsure of how long he would be gone. The same room he had barely noticed seemed to change when Sara entered. She pulled dark drapes to expose a view of the ocean and beach. She opened windows and a fresh, salt-scented breeze entered the room.

The bed, raised high about the floor with white netting gathered at each of its four posts, was centered in the room so that one could recline in bed and see the ocean. She disappeared into the bathroom.

"A real shower," she called, "and lots of hot water."

"And room service," said Grissom as she came to him wrapping arms around his neck.

"You did not have to do this."

He laughed as he said, "Yes, I did. I need to rest before taking on the rainforest."

Sara took his head between her hands, placed a kiss on his forehead, his nose, his lips, before saying, "You will get no rest with me. I have other plans."

With a look from him that she remembered so well, one of a sly smile and twinkling eyes, he back-walked her to the bedroom, lifted her up and fell into the bed, both laughing as they kissed and caressed each other.

"Nothing goes on until I shower, Gil. Nothing!" She giggled as she leaped from the bed. "I need major hot water, shampoo." She turned at the door. "And food—I think I could eat something cold, not beans. A cold beer, too."

He heard water as he lifted the phone ordering food with instructions to leave the food in the room. He placed tip money on the table and left a trail of clothes as he went into the bathroom. His breath caught as he opened the shower and Sara turned to him. Her smile was all he needed.

She placed a bar of scented soap in his hand and he made certain every inch of her skin received its share of gentle washing; the freckles across her shoulders, each finger, a bug bite on her calf received the meticulous attentions as her lips, her breasts, her spine, the firm, soft curve of her hip.

Grissom claimed he was relearning all the special and secret places he loved so much, when, in fact, he had never forgotten the feel of her body against his fingertips.

When he finished shampooing her hair, she took the much smaller bar of soap and did the same to him. She seemed to pay more attention to certain areas than others and he groaned as her warm hands played with that part of him that hungered for her. He pressed her against the shower wall and made love to her as water cascaded over them, pausing once to let both regain the ability to breath before resuming.

When they were both near collapse, she reached for a towel; one large enough to wrap them both in a white cocoon. Much cleaner, somewhat drier, and totally famished, Sara eyed the tray of food left beside the bed. She wiggled free of their shared towel and reached for bread, placing the piece in her mouth, took a piece of fruit in one hand and a bowl of cold soup in the other. She mumbled something around the bread.

Grissom took the bread from her, laughing, as she settled between his legs. She said, "I could eat that entire tray." He knew she liked food; yet she often forgot to eat.

He opened a beer and poured two glasses. "We'll get more." He nuzzled her neckline and she grinned, finished the soup, shared the bread, and kissed him between bites of mango.

"I think I'm dreaming."

"You are not dreaming." His hand touched her. "Does this feel like a dream?" She giggled. "Or this?" He stroked her cheek.

His hands warmed her skin. His lips sparked a fire in her heart, and between kisses, he whispered, "Forgive me, Sara, for not being able to tell you how much I love you, how much you have always meant to me, how much you have added to my life." His kisses moved along an unseen line from the center of her chest, to the hollow of her throat, to her chin, her jaw and her ear, and, last, to her mouth.

Sara smiled, and in a very calm voice, said, "I've always loved you—from the first day in San Francisco. It seems I've spent most of my adult years loving you, when I knew—I knew from San Francisco—that you loved me." She snuggled even closer. "You are a proud man, Gil, but without that, you would not be the man I love." She kissed him, deeply, tasting of mango, pulling him into an embrace as they slipped beneath bedcovers.


	12. Chapter 12

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 12**

Weeks of physical work, the rollercoaster ride of emotional anguish, and the unexpected, poignant arrival of her lover put Sara to sleep in minutes of finding comfort curled against Grissom. He, almost as quickly, found dreamless slumber; both immersed in contented rest after their long separation.

A hotel employee slipped in, quietly, to remove the food, to leave bottled water, and replace towels. The woman moved with the grace of a cat, making no sounds as she did her work, and smiled as she glanced at the bed. Lovers, she thought, this was a good room, a good place, a happy place.

In the night, Sara woke to the sound of rain. The pilot's weather prediction had arrived. She could see the white caps in the ocean as the wind grew stronger. She moved closer; neither had bothered to dress and the warmth of his body against hers made her smile. He had come to her; he had made a decision. She wanted to scream with joy, but instead, she tucked her head against his and kissed him.

Grissom felt her lips and stirred. "Anything wrong?" He mumbled.

"No, I'm happy."

"Raining."

"Yeah. I should close the windows." Sara slipped from the warm bed and ran to each window. When she turned, Grissom was sitting in the middle of the bed.

"You are beautiful, Sara."

In several long strides, she was back in bed, giggling as she placed damp hands against his skin. He held her hands between his, rolling to bring her beneath him.

"What do we do now, Miss Sidle?"

"I can think of one thing we can do in the middle of a rain storm, in the middle of a big bed—I'm surprised at you!" Her seductive laughter pulled him closer, waking arousal and excitement.

"I've missed you. I've missed your smile. I've missed your provocative looks. I've missed your brain. I've missed working with you—living with you—waking up beside you." He had stopped their play with his serious, solemn words and she remained quiet as she caressed his face.

Several minutes passed before he continued. "I seriously want to marry you." When her mouth opened, he placed one finger across her lips. "You said yes once; say yes again. We can get married here, stay as long as we like."

Her physical response was a vigorous, wholehearted, two arm hug followed by a kiss that set him on fire. Her verbal response, minutes later, came as she said, "We don't have to be married to love each other. A piece of paper will not make me love you more than I do right now."

Grissom had known her answer. He had asked her, unexpectedly, once before, and had never been completely sure that his question had not set off a cascade of events that led to her leaving Las Vegas. He could never be sure; he had almost convinced himself that one had nothing to do with the other. Tonight, he did not let her go.

"Think about it. I won't ask again. I want you to know I'm ready—I'll wait."

In the darkness, with a tropical storm raging outside their room, hearing waves pounding the beach, they loved each other in the gentle understanding way of long-time lovers. Seeking and giving pleasure, smiling at sensual sounds of the other, bringing each other to the precept before falling together—an uncontrolled freefall into mirrored souls. She welcomed him as her legs wrapped around his and they moved in rhythm. She cried first, not from despair or pain, but in ecstasy unbounded by fears or uncertainties.

Her tears brought release to Grissom. For months, he had been constrained by circumstances and deep personal reserve to guard his emotions. When he heard Sara's cry and felt her tears against his shoulder, he could no longer breathe. When he heard her say these were tears of joy, he buried his face in her hair and he cried—for Warrick, for pride and arrogance, for lost days with this woman he loved. He knew she kissed his wet face, she murmured loving words, and held him as one does a distraught child, until his tears were gone, almost as suddenly as they had arrived.

When he tried to talk, Sara quieted him with more kisses and cradled him against her breasts. There was no reason for him to talk, she said. She understood.

"Sleep, Gil. We need to sleep." And both drifted into peaceful, restful sleep…

Sara had closed the windows, not the drapes, and morning came as a gray sea fog and continuing rain. They could see the edge of the surf but not the horizon, the green grass but not the forest. They were enclosed in a capsule of white. Sara, wrapped in a colorful cloth square she had taken from the bed, slow danced around the room to some unheard melody.

Grissom watched from the bed. That blissful invention called room service had arrived with breakfast nearly an hour ago and he had watched as she inhaled her share and part of his before she crawled out of bed. The rain nor fog had dampened her mood as she inspected each drawer, every lamp, opened and closed each window, discovering a disguised door-window that opened to the lawn.

She found guidebooks he had left on the table his first night here—before he found her deep inside the park. "You brought these with you?" She asked.

"I did." He grinned. "If you had been eaten by a jaguar, I had other plans."

She laughed and continued her explorations around the room. She sat on the sofa across the room from him, turning her head to one side, she quietly asked, "Do you really want to marry me?"

"Yes."

She smiled, picking up one of his books as she did so.

Later, rain slowed, but fog stayed. They dressed, sort of, in the clothes they had worn in the forest, unzipping the long pants, and bringing out sandals to wear to the beach.

For a while they walked hand-in-hand until Sara turned, saying, "I have to do this."

Before he could say or do anything, she was running along the beach, weaving into water, jumping waves, and with each crash of a wave against the shore, she screamed—not in anger or terror, but of unrestrained happiness and delight. She held out her arms and twirled in the shallow water, uncaring that she was soaking wet.

She ran back to him, standing several feet away, a smile of enjoyment across her face. "I've wanted to do that since—yesterday—has it been only a day?"

As she said her words, the drizzle of rain stopped. Fog disappeared. The sun was suddenly bright and warm overhead, and in the distance, a million frogs sang in the forest. Grissom stepped to her and wrapped arms around her, tasting salty water on her lips, feeling her body pressed to his bare chest. Happiness was here, he thought, with this woman, in this place.


	13. Chapter 13

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 13**

The rest of their day was spent along the beach and rocky headlands seeing few other tourists as they walked and played. Grissom watched Sara as returned to play in the surf. She pitched rocks into the water, chased little crabs into their holes, and stood as still as a stone as a flock of birds flew over her head. They did not talk about the past nor the future, but found a dozen things in their path—footprints of an animal, perhaps an osas or giant anteater, flowers the colors of a rainbow tumbling along hillsides and hidden in crevices, an occasional insect, and in close contact with each other.

Back in their room, Grissom again ordered room service meals, saying "I think there are restaurants here—we can go out."

"I like eating here," she replied, again wrapped in the colorful throw from the bed after her shower. And when food arrived, she ate fruit; "The most delicious stuff I've ever eaten."

"You can't live on fruit," Grissom said with a laugh.

"Yes, I can." She actually slurped juice from her dripping hand. "I can hike and eat fruit and love you every day!" She leaned over and kissed him, leaving a trail of sticky drops across his leg, along his chest, and to his lips. She returned to each drop and licked his skin, which was the beginning of the end of eating, which led them back to the bed which meant they made up for some lost time.

The warmth of the bed, the sound of forest life after the rain, a restful day, and good food had revived both in strength and stamina. The night brought strong arms together and sweet, luring sounds from their throats. When Sara felt his hands on her, his gentle hands so full of feeling, her skin shivered and she made a soft sound as he drew her to him. Quietly he smelled her scent and warmth, caressing the simple beauty of her body, felt it grow warm with desire, waiting for him. Gradually, slowly, happily, they felt the boundless warmth grow until its source was found and burned with a golden glow.

When they recognized the need to separate, Grissom bent to Sara's face and began to kiss her in the darkness. He realized moonlight covered the bed, growing brighter and more intense as the moon rose over the edge of the forest. He watched as the white light illuminated her forehead, her face and shoulders. He pushed the sheet away from her and followed the light with kisses.

"Artemis," he said, "the moon goddess, huntress of souls, protector of wild places and animals; to her was known the places in nature where one could rest and regain strength." His hands moved along the curves and soft places of her body. "I think I've found her."

Sara smiled and brought his face back to hers. She had watched as he explored her body in the moonlight, remembering similar occasions of watching him work. Tonight, his face had been smooth, youthful yet serious, no worry lines between his eyes. "This is a good place for us, Gil, for a while we need to explore, give ourselves times to find life again."

He placed his head against her shoulder. "Sweet Sara—you are my Artemis."

She sniggered, "I think I remember Artemis was a virgin."

…They hired a local guide and explored the forest, sitting quietly for hours as they watched monkeys, thousands of butterflies and hummingbirds, hundreds of parrots, a flock of scarlet macaws, and one coatimundi. Several nights they returned to the forest with flashlights to see nocturnal insects and arachnids. Grissom knew her dislike for spiders and, even in his excitement and discussions with their guide, he never let her hand fall from his.

They ate and slept and made love as days passed and found interests to occupy time as people often do when removed from familiar places and things. A week, then two weeks elapsed. Sara mailed postcards to her mother and talked Grissom into sending several to the lab in care of Catherine. On the first, he wrote "Having a great time—Griss and Sara."

At the beginning of the third week following Grissom's arrival in Costa Rica, the two met a frog researcher who needed assistance. They spent hours around pools of still water and edges of creeks and streams looking for the red-eyed tree frog. The green frog with its purple or blue stripes and orange toes could disappear under green leaves and inside hollow stems and the researcher realized on the first day that he had found two brilliant volunteers.

The two would work a grid of rainforest, marking locations of frogs without disturbing the area. Given a simple magnifying glass, they found juvenile frogs as small as a thumbnail. The scientist passed their names to another researcher who was arriving a week later. And in this simple act, Sara and Grissom gained entrance to a world of natural science study.

Six weeks passed quickly, every day bringing a new experience or a day of solitude on an isolated beach. They learned the hotel staff's names and were rewarded with suggestions of named places and experiences other tourists missed. Sara glowed with contentment; Grissom gained a healthy flush and constant smile that dropped lines from his face and kept a spark in his eyes.

It was Sara who made their next decision. She snuggled against him one night as he read a research paper given to him by a visiting scientist.

"Busy?" She asked.

Of course she knew his answer; he closed the folder and provided his response with welcoming arms. The weeks had passed as a rediscovery of each other, not only emotionally but physically and intellectually. He knew before she said anything that it was time to go, to return to a world they had left behind—not the same world, living separately—but to find a new home and a new direction.

As well as he knew her, he was surprised when she said, "Maybe we should get married."

A low rumble of laughter came from his throat. "Today?" He asked.

She laughed. "No, not today, but soon. Maybe we can get married at the farm. My mom would like that. All the women would like that."

**A/N: **_Nearing the conclusion of this story--one or two more chapters will bring an even fluffier ending--sugar overload coming up!!_


	14. Chapter 14

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 14**

_**A/N: **__One more chapter after this one—enjoy!_

Sara spent the next few days shopping, finding a simple cream colored cotton dress with embroidery of small butterflies along the hem and around the neckline for herself—a rare gift for herself. She also purchased things for her mother and the other women who lived at the community farm. She called her mother one evening, letting Grissom speak to her first, and, while sitting with him, she told her mother they were getting married.

"Do you think we could get married at the farm?" Sara asked. When the answer was a delighted affirmation, she quickly added, "Nothing fancy, just a public notary, not a priest." They talked for several more minutes before Sara told her they would visit within the week.

Grissom slid beneath the bedcovers pulling her with him. "You are ready to leave this place?" He asked. His hand played along her abdomen, playfully seeking, tracing the curve of her hip, slipping fingers under elastic of her panties.

She responded with a soft laugh and fingers that worked on his shirt, pushing it out of her way. "Yeah. And I'm taking much more than I brought." She rolled on top of him. "Look at all this stuff we have to pack—and I have you." Her soft whisper was enough to keep them together.

They left slowly, taking a day to pack, choosing to discard most of their clothing, worn and frayed from excessive wear, and using their limited luggage space to pack books and the little things tourists buy for themselves and friends. They took a fast boat across the bay to a larger airport and a local airline to the capitol's airport instead of the small private plane, arriving in Los Angeles late in the night.

That night, Sara was the one to ask questions. "What will we do next, Gil?"

He brought her into his arms, whispering, "Whatever you want. We can travel—I'd like to see the pyramids and Venice—the real city—not the fake place in Vegas." They both knew, without saying it, they had seen enough of Las Vegas to last a lifetime, yet realized they had strong ties with friends, a house and a dog there.

Grissom held her as she slept, knowing their lives were set to change. Financially, they were prepared for the rest of their lives; professionally, they had discovered a love for in-field research, and, emotionally, as Grissom held her, making light circles with his thumb against her skin, he knew they were in the right place. They had months to make other decisions. His short-term goal was getting married. He snuggled and pulled her closer, hearing a soft sound as she returned his embrace in her sleep.

They had no agenda, no place to be, no one expected them to walk in a door at a certain time, but the two knew they had things to do. They purchased new clothes, simple shirts and jeans and personal items. Another day, they drove a rental car into a familiar driveway, saw figures working in a garden who raised a hand and waved as they drove to the long, low house that never changed and where they were always welcomed.

The quiet excitement of the women living a sheltered life grew as Sara passed out shawls and hats and small carved crosses to each one. Each woman thought of Sara as her own daughter and, months ago, she realized this as she wrestled in the deepness of dark depression—not alone, but with the unquestioning support of these devoted women. Today, she brought joy, happiness, and smiles as she announced she and Gil would marry, finally, and in their back yard if they agreed.

Grissom knew he witnessed the most boisterous celebration ever to occur in this house of religious women. Wine appeared, along with cookies and cheese and home-made bread. Food production had always amazed him at this home. They celebrated the announcement, the return of their prodigal daughter, and the acceptance of Grissom as part of their family. Grissom was not the only one around the table to notice a simple gesture that day.

Sara insisted she was getting married, not having a wedding. Her mother's friends patted her hand, gave her a hug, and told her to set a date. When she gave a date three days away, even Grissom objected.

"If you don't let the group in Las Vegas know, they will never forgive you. Never." He said as he sat across the table from her. She made a face but relented.

"Just email Catherine; she will tell everyone."

He reached across for her hand. "I mean—invite them to this marriage event, honey. They deserve to be here. Hank should be here." Grissom had a hidden motive for inviting their friends. He wanted Brass to bring something from their house.

Knowing they would be in one place for longer than a day, they found a suite-hotel and settled in. Sara kept to her word—she was getting married. She said the dress from Costa Rica would be perfect. The women on the farm said they would take care of everything else—including finding the appropriate official—not a priest, Sara insisted.

Grissom spoke to Catherine and her delight could be heard across the room. Sara smiled when she heard a male voice join in. Grissom gave them the date, promised to send directions, and after a game of twenty questions, finally told Catherine they would talk later. He waited until Sara left on some hazy errand to call Brass, giving him very specific directions for locating a very special piece of jewelry.

That night, Sara offered him an escape. "We don't have to do this, Gil."

"Get married or have a wedding?" He asked with a grin and an uplifted eyebrow.

"I think we should get married—we can do that at a courthouse. We don't have to—to stand in front of people to do it."

He sat down in front of her, moving her feet she had propped on the table into his lap. "Sara," his voice was filled with kindness and love, "tell me what I already know—I'm almost certain—but I want to hear it from you."


	15. Chapter 15

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 15**

_A/N: We divided this chapter so there is one more with an epilogue! Enjoy!_

Sara spent the next few days shopping, finding a simple cream colored cotton dress with embroidery of small butterflies along the hem and around the neckline for herself—a rare gift for herself. She also purchased things for her mother and the other women who lived at the community farm. She called her mother one evening, letting Grissom speak to her first, and, while sitting with him, she told her mother they were getting married.

"Do you think we could get married at the farm?" Sara asked. When the answer was a delighted affirmation, she quickly added, "Nothing fancy, just a public notary, not a priest." They talked for several more minutes before Sara told her they would visit within the week.

Grissom slid beneath the bedcovers pulling her with him. "You are ready to leave this place?" He asked. His hand played along her abdomen, playfully seeking, tracing the curve of her hip, slipping fingers under elastic of her panties.

She responded with a soft laugh and fingers that worked on his shirt, pushing it out of her way. "Yeah. And I'm taking much more than I brought." She rolled on top of him. "Look at all this stuff we have to pack—and I have you." Her soft whisper was enough to keep them together.

They left slowly, taking a day to pack, choosing to discard most of their clothing, worn and frayed from excessive wear, and using their limited luggage space to pack books and the little things tourists buy for themselves and friends. They took a fast boat across the bay to a larger airport and a local airline to the capitol's airport instead of the small private plane, arriving in Los Angeles late in the night.

That night, Sara was the one to ask questions. "What will we do next, Gil?"

He brought her into his arms, whispering, "Whatever you want. We can travel—I'd like to see the pyramids and Venice—the real city—not the fake place in Vegas." They both knew, without saying it, they had seen enough of Las Vegas to last a lifetime, yet realized they had strong ties with friends, a house and a dog there.

Grissom held her as she slept, knowing their lives were set to change. Financially, they were prepared for the rest of their lives; professionally, they had discovered a love for in-field research, and, emotionally, as Grissom held her, making light circles with his thumb against her skin, he knew they were in the right place. They had months to make other decisions. His short-term goal was getting married. He snuggled and pulled her closer, hearing a soft sound as she returned his embrace in her sleep.

They had no agenda, no place to be, no one expected them to walk in a door at a certain time, but the two knew they had things to do. They purchased new clothes, simple shirts and jeans and personal items. Another day, they drove a rental car into a familiar driveway, saw figures working in a garden who raised a hand and waved as they drove to the long, low house that never changed and where they were always welcomed.

The quiet excitement of the women living a sheltered life grew as Sara passed out shawls and hats and small carved crosses to each one. Each woman thought of Sara as her own daughter and, months ago, she realized this as she wrestled in the deepness of dark depression—not alone, but with the unquestioning support of these devoted women. Today, she brought joy, happiness, and smiles as she announced she and Gil would marry, finally, and in their back yard if they agreed.

Grissom knew he witnessed the most boisterous celebration ever to occur in this house of religious women. Wine appeared, along with cookies and cheese and home-made bread. Food production had always amazed him at this home. They celebrated the announcement, the return of their prodigal daughter, and the acceptance of Grissom as part of their family. Grissom was not the only one around the table to notice a simple gesture that day.

Sara insisted she was getting married, not having a wedding. Her mother's friends patted her hand, gave her a hug, and told her to set a date. When she gave a date three days away, even Grissom objected.

"If you don't let the group in Las Vegas know, they will never forgive you. Never." He said as he sat across the table from her. She made a face but relented.

"Just email Catherine; she will tell everyone."

He reached across for her hand. "I mean—invite them to this marriage event, honey. They deserve to be here. Hank should be here." Grissom had a hidden motive for inviting their friends. He wanted Brass to bring something from their house.

Knowing they would be in one place for longer than a day, they found a suite-hotel and settled in. Sara kept to her word—she was getting married. She said the dress from Costa Rica would be perfect. The women on the farm said they would take care of everything else—including finding the appropriate official—not a priest, Sara insisted.

Grissom spoke to Catherine and her delight could be heard across the room. Sara smiled when she heard a male voice join in. Grissom gave them the date, promised to send directions, and after a game of twenty questions, finally told Catherine they would talk later. He waited until Sara left on some hazy errand to call Brass, giving him very specific directions for locating a very special piece of jewelry.

That night, Sara offered him an escape. "We don't have to do this, Gil."

"Get married or have a wedding?" He asked with a grin and an uplifted eyebrow.

"I think we should get married—we can do that at a courthouse. We don't have to—to stand in front of people to do it."

He sat down in front of her, moving her feet she had propped on the table into his lap. "Sara," his voice was filled with kindness and love, "tell me what I already know—I'm almost certain—but I want to hear it from you." *

Her brown eyes looked into intense blue ones, and she quickly looked away. "I've been so—so stupid—such an idiot."

"Never." He lifted her with his arms and held her, tightly, holding her head against his. "We are going to get married in a week, then we are going to see the pyramids—I'm thinking a two month honeymoon, maybe longer, because I want to see Venice with you. If I'm right, and I think I am, that means we will have four or five months to find us a home."

"When did you know?"

Instead of a rapid answer, he carried her to the bed and began to undress her. His finger traced the edge of her bra. "One night before you agreed to marry me, I noticed a certain change—we are talking intimate areas filled with nerve endings—and when I touched you here," he lightly ran a finger across one breast, "and here," his finger moved again, "you flinched very slightly—almost unnoticeable." His hand spread across her abdomen. "When you agreed to get married—another clue."

Sara turned her face into the pillow, her eyes closed as tears spilled from behind her eyelids. Why did she think she had secrets from him, a man who could track a dusty footprint across a desert or find a fiber in a trash dumpster. "I'm sorry. I didn't plan this very well."

He folded arms around her. She heard a chuckle. "If we planned anything, dear, we might never get anything accomplished." He kissed her. "I'm tickled—had doubts this would ever happen to me, to tell the truth. Look at me." She opened wet eyes. "Are you okay with this?"

She saw his eyes, and saw how much love was there. Simple, straightforward, nothing held back, just blue eyes twinkling with love. "I might be a little shocked—I never expected this to happen—when you arrived, I didn't think about—birth control." She stretched out her last two words.

Her words brought his laughter. "Neither did I." He said. His hand moved across her flat belly. "You don't think—how far along are you?"

She held up two fingers. "Two weeks late. I—I did two tests today—bright blue positive. And I called a women's clinic for an appointment." She sighed. "How many women my age get knocked up before they get married?" She tried to laugh.

Grissom laughed with her. "We will do fine, Sara." He leaned to her abdomen and placed a light kiss below her navel. "Hey, little baby—we might have to name you after a monkey!" He laughed as Sara's belly rippled with laughter. He looked up at her. "You know the first baby can come at any time; the second one takes nine months." The sound of her laughing brought his lips to hers.

Early the next morning, Catherine called their room. "You need a cell phone," were her first words.

"No, I don't," Grissom said. "I'm retired." He watched as Sara stirred awake. "And I'm sleeping with my future wife." He paused for a second before saying, "And the mother of my child."

Catherine became so quiet that he asked if she was still there. "Is Sara pregnant?" She asked.

"Yes," adding, "just barely." Beside him, he heard a sleepy snort.

At the same instant, he heard a choking cough from Catherine. "Well, you are full of surprises. What next? Wait—I called for a reason. We are coming to the wedding!"

Grissom had known they would come. He promised again to send directions, today, by email. He passed the phone to Sara. "Catherine wants to talk." For the next fifteen minutes, all Grissom heard was "yes" or "no" or "okay" until a goodbye signaled the end of the one-sided conversation.

"They are coming—Catherine, Brass, Greg, Nick, Super Dave, even Doc Robbins. The new guys said they would cover everything and Ecklie approved their leave." She stretched and purposely elbowed him in his side. "And thanks for the announcement. Catherine will tell everyone."

The look on Grissom face was one of pride and smugness. "I've been waiting years to stun Catherine and I knew that would do it. We're going to have a baby, Sara."


	16. Chapter 16

**A Few Days in the Pacific Chapter 16 & Epilogue**

The women's clinic worked Sara in for a quick appointment with a nurse midwife who proceeded to give a thorough physical, asked a hundred questions, before declaring that Sara was the healthiest pregnant women she had seen all day. Sara asked about traveling to far off places.

"Back to Costa Rica?" the nurse asked.

"No, Egypt—maybe Italy." Sara said, glancing at Grissom. "Before we settle down, we wanted to take a trip."

Grissom smiled from his seat near the examining table. "It's our honeymoon."

The woman returned his smile. "You are in great shape. I see no reason you can't travel. I'll write a couple of prescriptions—prenatal vitamins, a safe antibiotic, nausea medication, just in case. Women have babies all over the world—and problems in early pregnancy can be handled." She handed several papers to Sara and a book to Grissom. "Read this, Dad."

Startled, Grissom took the book on healthy pregnancy and babies. Sara had to laugh. He looked as surprised as she had looked after the first home pregnancy test. "We've having a baby."

They got a marriage license, purchased simple gold bands, met with a local notary who agreed to perform official duties for a marriage, and filled the remaining days with planning a trip, first to Venice, then to Cairo. Grissom smiled all day and his happy optimism spread to Sara. The women at the farm insisted they had everything planned—outside ceremony with lunch afterwards and they were preparing the food. Sara's eyes rolled, but she asked no questions.

The night before the ceremony, the Las Vegas friends arrived in masse; Doc Robbins and Greg had driven Grissom's car and brought Hank. The dog jumped from the car running back and forth between Grissom and Sara pleased to see his owners.

The wedding day—or day of marriage, as Sara named it—was a day of bright sun, a light breeze, and warm without heat or humidity. The first thing Sara saw, tied to the rural mailbox, was a cluster of multi-colored balloons.

"I hope this isn't a sign of things to come—I said no fuss," she complained. "If there's a priest, I'm leaving."

No priest, but the back yard was set up for a ceremony—white folding chairs were arranged in short rows for the twenty-five or so guests. A white tent—where did that come from, Sara asked, and Grissom shrugged and grinned. She saw the cake, a white, sugar confection covered with flowers, and said nothing. When she entered the kitchen, she gasped and grabbed Grissom's arm.

"I had nothing to do with this part," he quickly said.

Food—food enough for a small army—covered every surface of the kitchen as the women brought more out of the refrigerators. There were quick hugs and laughter as Sara went from platters to bowls to chafing pans. Every vegetable and fruit known to grow in California was prepared in some form—soups, breads, cheeses, pasta with tomatoes and with cream sauce, and desserts—tarts, cookies, little cakes, pies.

"Who is going to eat all this food?" She asked as she passed through the kitchen, giving more hugs to her mother and Sister Deborah. The women laughed and ushered her out and into a room to dress. Her mother helped her with her dress, handing her a small bouquet of flowers.

"You are beautiful, Sara," her mother said quietly. "Your Gil is a wonderful person." She smoothed the simple cotton dress and helped tie a soft woven belt.

When she was dressed, her hair combed and clipped back from her face, Sara embraced her mother; both stood looking in a large mirror at images that so clearly reflected similar smiles and eyes.

"Mom, I'm going to have a baby."

Her mother's face broke into a wide smile. "A baby—I knew you didn't drink the wine last week."

Sara turned to face her mother. "You noticed? I pretended to drink it."

The two women waited for Grissom and when he arrived, Laura Sidle slipped away to join the others. The bride reached for the groom's hand.

"I have something for you," Grissom said. His hand opened to reveal a small black fabric bag. "This belonged to my mother—I should have given it to you years ago." A gold ring set with a dark green emerald surrounded by diamonds fell into his palm. He lifted her hand and slipped it on her finger.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she whispered. "Don't make me cry. I don't want to cry today."

He kissed her, took her hand and said, "Let's go get married. Eat some of that mountain of food afterwards."

They walked out of the house together, smiling, holding tightly to each other's hand, and ended up in the right place, standing before their friends with a warm breeze sending the smell of flowers across the back yard. When they said the appropriate words, exchanged the gold bands, and leaned together sharing a short kiss, a collective sigh came from their audience followed by tentative applause that quickly became much louder, a whistle from Greg, and a shout of "about time" coming from Nick.

A celebration followed…

…The newlyweds left California for the unique city of Venice, built on a series of islands amid the waters of the Adriatic Sea. A month later, the two watched the sun rise over the Great Pyramid of Giza, spent time in the Valley of the Kings, and sailed along the Nile…

_****Epilogue or the fate of Sara and Gil Grissom**_:

As time moved forward, after a very uneventful pregnancy, a baby girl was born, healthy in body and mind, wealthy with parents and others who loved her. The Grissom parents decided to buy a small house near the community farm where the baby's only grandparent lived; a wise decision for everyone as it turned out.

Eleven months after the first birth, Sara was pregnant again. She pretended to be upset when the pregnancy test showed positive, but the smug look and devotion of her husband—given with his trademark smirk of approval—made her laugh. They would have two children, and return to the rainforest she said.

The second pregnancy resulted in two babies, a fairly common occurrence in older mothers, the physician said, which caused a one-man celebration by the father who danced around their bedroom holding their daughter. Sara thought he would show some discontent when they learned the twins were girls. He didn't.

Grissom had a new life. He placed the little baby in a carrier before she could hold up her head and switched to a back carrier as soon as she big enough. Their new home, a farm house built by a couple who thought they wanted rural life, was less than a mile from Sara's mother—a place Grissom had eyed for years and with the right lawyer, enough money, and perfect timing—they had purchased a jewel. He had room for bees, a flower field for butterflies, a vegetable garden, and fifteen surrogate grandmothers as neighbors willing to lend a hand.

Sara found a part-time teaching position in a community college, disappearing twice a week to teach physics, knowing this job was temporary, and reminding her husband of the rainforest. She cooked, she made a house into a home, becoming the mother her daughter needed and the wife Grissom loved. As her belly expanded with two babies, she knew it would be a few years before they returned to research.

Overnight, the family of three became five. Friends from Las Vegas visited; Catherine was spellbound by the change in appearance and attitude of a man she had known for decades, surprised at the natural maternal instinct she saw in Sara. Nick and Greg expressed no surprise at either, telling Catherine that Sara had always been that way and how else to describe Grissom other than teacher and father.

Sara and Gil Grissom made a home, loving each other, raising their daughters, and occasionally remembering nights in a desert city and time spent in a rainforest.

_The End! Thanks for reading, special thanks to those who read and leave a comment. We hope all your dreams come true…_


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